


Sehnsucht

by helloshepard



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Spoilers, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: Cobb Vanth knows better than to let his imagination get the better of him.Correction: Cobb Vanthshouldknow better than to let his imagination get the better of him.He does it anyway.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 21
Kudos: 398





	Sehnsucht

**Author's Note:**

> ty to spacefoxen for the beta reading! ig-11/mando still has my heart but cobb/din...good.

Cobb Vanth knows better than to let his imagination get the better of him.

Correction: Cobb Vanth  _ should _ know better than to let his imagination get the better of him.

He does it anyway.

He allows himself a good half hour to be wrapped up in the euphoria of their victory. The implications of their alliance with the Tuskens weighs heavy on the back of his mind; as self-appointed leader of Mos Pelgo, Cobb Vanth has taken it upon himself to protect his town. He’s not arrogant enough to think the town’s protection is a solo endeavor: even now, with the agreement with the Tuskens and the dragon dead, he’s still thinking about when the other boot will drop.

A plan has been brewing in the back of his mind: another negotiation with the Tuskens. Trade for protection.

That the Mandalorian will need to stay a few days longer is…

It’s a good side benefit, Cobb decides. He doesn’t know how quickly news of the krayt dragon’s death will spread, or what it means for Mos Pelgo. The last time Mos Pelgo had had reason to celebrate, well.

Suns above, this is  _ hard. _ There’s a reason he tries to keep this from the others, putting up a barrier between Cobb Who Used to Be Just a Man and Marshall Cobb—everyone in Mos Pelgo is hard, but this feels beyond ordinary Tattooine hardness. This feels like it’s a step above keeping a moisture farm running, even above chasing the corporations out. This is about keeping a  _ community _ afloat.

He manages to keep his voice level when he talks to the Mandalorian; making a case about strengthening relations between Pelgoans and Tuskens. Maybe the Mando can sense the undercurrent of uncertainty anyway—living with his head stuck in that bucket, he’s probably better at deciphering tone than Cobb could ever be.

The Mandalorian doesn’t indicate whether or not he thinks the negotiations are a good idea, but he agrees to remain readily enough. Cobb knows it’s not nearly long enough, then wonders when his concern for his home had gotten crossed with wanting the Mandalorian to stick around. In the meantime, Cobb is content to give him a tour of the town, half under the guise of wanting to show the Mando what he’s got is  _ worth _ understanding the Tuskens for, half to see if he can get a better read on the stranger.

But he’s not a stranger, is he? Cobb couldn’t pretend he was from Coruscant, but the Mando  _ had _ told Cobb to take care of the child. You don’t just say that to a stranger.

Right?

Maybe Mandos do. Cobb isn’t sure.

Anyway.

Cobb admires the way the suns fading rays dance off the Mandalorian’s helmet. His own armor—his  _ old _ armor, Cobb reminds himself, even though he’s still wearing it—is far too scratched and dented to produce shine the way his does.

Cobb pulls off his helmet, feeling the hot breeze ruffle his hair. In a few hours the air will be cold, as unyieldingly harsh in the night as it is in the middle of the day. He hands the helmet over to the Mandalorian. The child coos.

There’s a sense of finality to it Cobb isn’t sure he likes.

That night, he dreams of unmasking dragons. 

Without his armor, Cobb finds himself trailing behind the Mandalorian. The Tuskens don’t seem to notice the change—or if they do, they don’t care. He’s starting to get a sense of their hierarchy; by following the Mandalorian’s cues he’s at least  _ looking _ at the right person now. Probably.

Cobb floats the idea of a protocol droid, and the Mandalorian agrees it’s a good idea—at least until Cobb and a few others learn the language. That buys them another day, for Cobb and the Mandalorian and the kid to head to Mos Espa.

It’s in Mos Espa that they run into trouble. It’s no one’s fault—just a converter on Cobb’s bike that went too long in between maintenance. In hindsight, he’s surprised the thing hadn’t given up a month ago. So they end up staying the night in town, renting the cheapest room and trusting the Mandalorian’s arsenal will protect what the flimsy door cannot.

Cobb returns from the mechanic—a tired Ithorian who was both willing to barter and willing to fix the bike overnight—and finds the child asleep in his pod. The Mandalorian’s legs are crossed as he reclines on the bed, fingers intertwined in his lap as he stares at the door. Cobb’s had enough experience with Mandalorian tech to know the Mando’s probably not  _ only _ looking at the door; he could be trading stocks or watching vids or playing sabaac for all Cobb knows.

Against his better judgement, he settles into the room’s single chair. The remnants of its stuffing are scattered in soft clumps on the floor, and it creaks as Cobb settles his weight on the rickety metal.

It’s easier to talk to the Mandalorian than one might expect. He’s unsurprisingly reluctant to offer information about himself, but he answers Cobb’s other questions readily enough. A crack forms in Cobb’s self-imposed barrier.

It’s three hours later when Cobb realizes it’s the early hours of the morning, and he’s moved to sit beside the Mandalorian. In part, it’s because he’s so  _ quiet,  _ so hard to hear, what with the helmet and Mos Espa just outside. There’s a pleasant sort of neutrality to his voice; it’s not monotone but it  _ is _ calm. It puts Cobb at ease, and he doubts most could say that about a Mandalorian.

Cobb imagines the Mandalorian smiling beneath his helmet. His voice has changed, shifting from quiet to  _ soft. _

He’s not a man of impulse: Mos Pelgo needs Cobb the Marshall.

Cobb Who Used to Be Just a Man reaches over and hooks two fingers under the lip of the Mandalorian’s helmet.

The rebuke is as subtle as it is effective. The Mandalorian’s hand comes up, taking Cobb’s wrist and gently—firmly—pushes it down.

He apologizes, and doesn’t remember what he said, but the Mandalorian seems to accept it, nodding and turning back to his vigil over the child.

And that seems to be that. The conversation shifts back to light, harmless chitchat. As much as he wants to, Cobb’s doesn’t run off in an embarrassed huff. He manages to sustain polite conversation for a few minutes more, until the suns begin peeking under the tattered curtains and the Mandalorian gets up and stretches. The child wakes soon after, and Cobb is left to collect himself.

They part ways in Mos Espa. Cobb has his droid, a repurposed farming droid that greets him with a polite softness reminiscent of the Mandalorian himself. Cobb manages to keep his voice even as he bids farewell.

And then the Mandalorian is gone, taking more from Cobb than just a suit of armor.


End file.
